


Flying Without Wings

by Rasborealis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A spot of pining, Airplane Sex, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Drarropoly: A Drarry Game/Fest, Fluff, M/M, No baby airplanes were conceived in the making of this story, Porny things, Rough blowjobs, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married, not between airplanes, sex on an airplane, that is, the roughness is very consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 15:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasborealis/pseuds/Rasborealis
Summary: Harry has a Really Good Idea for that undercover Auror mission, and it involves boarding an airplane with Draco Malfoy.He may not have thought this one through.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 463
Collections: Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest





	Flying Without Wings

“My…shoes?” Draco looked at him, aghast, and Harry couldn’t have stopped the small sigh from escaping to save his life.

“Yes, your shoes. Dear,” he added quickly.

“You’re terrible at this,” Draco informed him, sotto voce, and oh, Harry was well aware of that. He was famous in the department for having the subtlety of a bludger on a murderous rampage, so why Kingsley had personally requested him specifically for an undercover mission was utterly beyond him. Wrangling a partner he wasn’t used to working with was only the icing on this craptastic cake.

“Fuck you and take your shoes off, Draco,” he said diplomatically.

Draco crossed his arms, apparently determined to be difficult before they’d even gotten on the bloody plane. “What happens if I don’t?”

“Er, well, best case scenario, they won’t let you on the plane. Worst case, you’ll be arrested and, I don’t know, killed in a prison riot.”

“_What?_ Where in Merli…God’s name did that come from?”

Harry shrugged. “I mean, they call it worst case scenario for a reason, right? I was just-”

“I fucking hate you,” Draco hissed, and bent down to slip off his shoes.

Harry deflated. He knew it had to be mostly nervousness on Draco’s part that had prompted the words, but it still stung.

They made their way through the security checkpoint without any major incidents, a fact for which Harry was very thankful. It wasn’t completely smooth – Draco seemed alarmed by the body scanner and had to be prodded into it – but Harry would take all the tiny victories he could get.

Draco calmed down a bit when they entered the luxurious lounge where they would wait until their flight began the process of boarding. He sank into a chair with a massive sigh. Harry took a seat on the sofa opposite him.

“I hate this,” Draco said.

“I did tell you about the security thing beforehand,” Harry pointed out.

“I thought you were joking!”

“Why the hell would I joke about that?”

Draco shrugged. “To embarrass me?”

“And jeopardize our…” _mission_ “…honeymoon?”

Draco gave him that smile again, the one Harry knew was supposed to be sharp and condescending and a bit evil, but it did things to him that were, at best, extremely inconvenient. Oh, he was so fucked. They were so fucked. This mission was so very, very fucked.

Draco massaged his temples. “Talk me through what happens next,” he said.

“We wait here, and then we board once the plane is ready. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Someone will check your boarding pass – which, no, I’m not going to give to you yet – and then we walk through a very long hallway type thing that takes us right up to the door of the plane. I think they’ll show us to our seats once we’re there.”

He watched as a long-suffering expression appeared on Draco’s face.

“Until that happens, there’s food over there.” Harry pointed.

“Oh, thank Merl…_God_, damn it.” Draco jumped up and walked to the buffet so fast he might as well have been sprinting.

This was not. Going. Well.

Harry hadn’t thought it would be this much of a problem, boarding a plane together, otherwise he wouldn’t have insisted on it. But it had seemed like such an obvious solution – they didn’t know their quarry’s name or what he looked like, but they _did_ know he was taking this flight, so what could have been better than having hours upon hours to identify the man, without him being able to get away?

Except now there was Draco getting his wand in a knot over just about everything, and Harry having a hard time not breaking their cover, and Draco having a hard time acting like a muggle, and Harry fucking up even more because the inconvenient feelings he’d been happily ignoring and denying for over a year were all bubbling to the surface when he least wanted them to.

He took a moment to refocus his mind on the most important thing, which was  _not breaking their cover._

“You should sit next to me,” he said when Draco returned with a full plate. “Because that’s what newlyweds do.”

Draco gave him a long, searching look, but then he shrugged and plopped down on the sofa next to Harry. “Salmon crisp?” he offered, holding out the plate, and oh, Harry would have to make his own trip to the buffet after all, because everything Draco had gotten looked ridiculously delicious.

“Thanks,” he said, and picked up the finger food while trying not to spill thinly sliced salmon all over himself. Once it was in his mouth, he couldn’t help closing his eyes in bliss.

“Quite good, isn’t it?” Draco said. “I’m surprised, Finch-Fletchley said the food would be horrid.”

“I think that’s on the plane itself, mostly,” Harry said. “Since there’s no room for a big kitchen to prepare it, so it’s all just reheated.”

“That makes sense,” Draco said, and picked up another bite. He held it up to Harry’s mouth.

“Er,” Harry said cleverly.

“Wild mushroom crostini,” Draco said patiently, and that was when Harry realized that _Draco was trying to feed him_.

Something in him went weak and mushy, but he managed to open his mouth and then close it again, feeling the jolt of pleasure that was Draco’s fingertip brushing the corner of Harry’s mouth for just a moment when he pulled back his hand.

As the lounge filled with more passengers, the two of them fed each other bites of roasted fingerling potato with caviar, shrimp deviled eggs, and phyllo stuffed with slices of pear and goat’s cheese. Harry died a little more with each mouthful. He knew Draco was only deigning to do this since it helped maintain their cover, but he couldn’t help the flashes of wishful thinking he constantly had to push far away from his conscious mind.

The food seemed to have put Draco into a much better mood by the time they had to leave the lounge. Boarding went much better than Harry could have hoped for, there was only the one small snag of Draco having a panic attack on the tiny bridge in between jetway and airplane. Harry simply pushed him onward and kept his arm around him on the way to their seats, as though comforting his nervous spouse.

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” Draco said weakly once they were in the cabin. “Finch-Fletchley made it sound like the seats were much smaller than that, like you couldn’t move around one bit.”

“Economy is actually like that,” Harry said. He’d only flown twice before, to France and back when Fleur’s sister had gotten married, but he didn’t care to relive the claustrophobic experience. “Bloody lucky for us we’re flying First Class.”

Draco gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I’d started to think he was having me on,” he said.

“He’d be a shit Muggle Culture Advisor if that was the case,” Harry pointed out. “And if it jeopardized the mission, he’d be out of a job, too.”

He couldn’t say more than that, because other passengers were being shown in by a flight crew member at that point. Harry studied them all carefully. They knew their quarry would be among the other twelve First Class passengers, they knew he was a male, and they knew that while he was a muggle, he had two magical siblings and would therefore be at least passingly familiar with wizarding terminology.

And they knew he was smuggling absurd quantities of Veritaserum he had somehow gotten his hands on.

It was the reason Draco was part of the mission despite the need to blend in – his occlumency was strong enough to resist in case he was dosed. Harry himself would just have to be very careful with the foods and drinks he consumed.

As it turned out, there were three women on the flight, so their list of suspects was down to nine, which was still far too many for Harry’s taste. Even before they were off the ground, he was already profiling and analyzing, deciding who to focus on first. There was a nervous-looking bloke in a leather jacket sitting diagonally two rows in front of him who’d rung alarm bells as soon as Harry had glimpsed him. There was also the man in a sharp suit who was a little too intent on looking busy and important, shouting into his phone while he still could and reaching for his laptop once he couldn’t.

Then, Harry was briefly distracted by the sight of Draco investigating all that his seat had to offer, from the TV to the seatbelt to the menu and the various amenities, looking adorably child-like in his exploration.

_ What’s this for? _ he mouthed at Harry at one point, holding up and wiggling the remote for the tv.

_ I’ll tell you later, _ Harry mouthed back.

Thankfully, the take-off didn’t cause Draco to have another panic attack, which Harry thought was impressive, since even _he_ thought the sensation of the vibrating plane was nerve-wracking, even though he’d felt it before and was prepared for it.

What he _wasn’t_ prepared for, even remotely, was Draco taking off his seatbelt as soon as an announcement said they were allowed to, getting up, and squeezing himself on the seat next to Harry.

“What-” Harry started, and then his breath left him because while the leather seat was quite large and comfortable, it was still an extremely tight fit for two people, so Draco was suddenly pressed against him from knee to shoulder.

“I thought I’d keep you company for a while,” Draco purred, and Harry was _not_ going to get hard in the middle of an airplane, thank you very much. No, no, _no_.

Oh fuck, he absolutely was.

He flung his hand out for the complimentary travel blanket and draped it strategically across his lower body. “Cold, too?” he asked, trying to sound casual as he offered Draco a corner of the blanket.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Draco gushed and snuggled close.

Harry surreptitiously shook his wand from his sleeve into his hand and cast a muttered Muffliato. “What are you doing?” he asked then.

“End that fucking spell at once,” Draco growled, “that is _not_ one of the strictly necessary uses of magic that we agreed on.”

“If we need to talk-” Harry tried to argue, and that was all he managed before Draco’s lips were suddenly brushing his ear.

“Then we can simply do this,” he breathed. “Wasn’t that why we agreed on this particular cover, to avoid arousing suspicion?”

Harry sighed and canceled the charm with reluctance. He caught movement behind Draco, and looked up.

“Champagne?” the sweetly smiling flight attendant offered.

“We’ll share, thank you so much,” Draco replied, and delicately reached for one of the flutes.

“What are you doing _now?_” Harry whispered, trying hard to look like he was exchanging sweet nothings with his spouse.

“I’m desperate for a drink, aren’t you?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“Exactly. So.” Draco took a sip, swallowed, and waited for a long moment while looking thoughtful. “Clean,” he said then.

“What?”

“It’s not been dosed, Potter, can you _try_ not to be a knobhead for ten seconds?”

Harry reflected that the insult probably would have hit harder if it hadn’t been delivered as Draco’s breath caressed the shell of Harry’s ear and the heat of his body bled through their clothes to Harry’s skin.

Yep, still fucked.

Harry gulped champagne, then set down his glass, glanced to his left, and froze. Leather jacket man had just eyed them suspiciously, then quickly turned away as soon as he realized Harry was looking. He pointedly paid attention to Draco again and could see from the corner of his eye as the man’s head turned their way once more.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“What?” Draco hissed.

“Quarry might suspect something.”

“Oh,” Draco said, and then he gave Harry a single, considering look before fluttering his eyelashes, whispering “act natural,” and leaning in.

Harry knew the kiss was coming, he _knew_ it was happening only to throw their quarry off the scent, and yet he couldn’t keep his mind from going wonderfully blank as he fell into it as though nothing else had ever mattered. Draco’s lips were soft as they moved on his, and he could hear him make little sighing sounds that drove Harry altogether crazy, and that was only before Draco’s hand landed on his thigh and their tongues brushed for the first time.

Harry had had orgasms that couldn’t compare in intensity to this one, single blissful moment.

A part of him felt like it was dying of despair and deprivation as soon as Draco finally pulled back. He realized that his hand had buried itself in Draco’s hair at some uncertain point, which was really nice because he’d wondered for a long time what that would feel like, but he didn’t have long to dwell on the fact because Draco was far away now to be able to see his face, and that didn’t bode well.

“Oh,” Draco said tonelessly, blinking, and oh fuck, he’d realized that there was no way Harry was that good an actor. And worst of all, there was no way Harry could run and hide in embarrassment, because they were _on a thrice-damned airplane_.

“Erm,” Harry said awkwardly as his face started to burn. Draco was still half-straddling him.

Draco cleared his throat. “Cast it again,” he said, and it took Harry far too long to realize he meant the Muffliato. With a weak movement, he did so.

He opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. There was nothing _to_ say, nothing except _I’m sorry I’m enough of a fucking idiot to endanger this entire mission_.

Draco put him out of his misery. “You couldn’t have mentioned that before?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I,” Harry said, and swallowed hard.

“You do realize what position you’ve put the two of us in, yes?”

“Yes,” Harry said miserably. “Yes, I know, I’ve fucked up the mission.”

“No, I mean,” Draco said, “we’re going to have to sit next to each other for hours to come and act professional, and then catch our guy, and then go have a debriefing or three, before I’ll finally be able to drag you to a bed and have my way with you.”

“Ah, er, I, what?” Harry was lost.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Keep up, Potter,” he said, and smashed their lips together once more.

Harry whimpered when the realization of what was happening finally hit him. Draco was kissing him _again_. Draco wanted him. Draco was crawling onto his lap despite everything he’d just said about having to act professional, and was pressing himself against Harry’s chest as though it was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

“Oh fuck,” Harry breathed in a rare moment when Draco’s lips left his so they could go explore his jaw and ear.

“Yeah,” Draco rasped. “We should…we should stop.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, the word rushing out on a labored breath, and made no move to do so. Oh fuck, he really was hard now, and Draco kept making it worse, and they had to stop, they _had_ to, before they were caught and reprimanded and attracted all the wrong sorts of attention, before…

“Potter,” Draco breathed, for some reason reverting to their long-since-retired habit of last name usage as he was sucking on Harry’s earlobe. “I need you to cast every single privacy ward you’re ever heard of in your life. Do it now. Make us invisible. Inaudible. Undetectable. Whatever you can think of, _now_.”

Harry had never been so distracted during spellcasting, but these sorts of wards _were_ a specialty of his, and so despite the writhing diversion straddling him, it took him barely half a minute until he had erected a veritable fortress of spells around them both.

“Done,” he gasped then.

“Can they see us?”

“No.”

“Hear us?”

“Not one bit.”

“Wonder where we are?”

“No, I’ve got all the proper misdirection and diversion spells that-”

“Lovely,” Draco said, and slid to his knees.

“Oh fuck,” Harry breathed as his cock was freed with hasty, fumbling movements, and then Draco slid his lips right over the tip and he lost words altogether, which was just as well because he couldn’t have found any that might describe how amazing it felt anyway. Draco’s mouth was hot and tight in all the right ways, and Harry had no idea how he was even fucking doing that, because it wasn’t _possible_ without even a small grazing of teeth or a triggered gag reflex, but Draco laughed in the face of impossibility and sucked Harry’s cock like a fucking god on earth.

…god in the air?

Harry was losing his bloody mind over this blowjob.

Draco made an impatient noise and grabbed Harry’s hands, which he’d kept politely at his sides. But apparently politeness wasn’t Draco’s kink, because what he seemed to be demanding instead was for Harry to grab two fistfuls of silver-blond hair and-

Fuck.

Harry kept waiting to be stopped, for a signal that he’d gone too far, but the rougher he was, the more Draco seemed to get off on it, and eventually he was all but driving himself into the wonderful heat thrust by powerful thrust, and Draco moaned and choked on his length with an expression of bliss on his face. The thumb and forefinger of Draco’s right hand were tight around the base of Harry’s cock, which was the only explanation for why Harry hadn’t come literally fifteen seconds into this thing.

“I can’t,” Harry breathed, feeling his legs beginning to shake with the strain and the overwhelming pleasure. “Draco, I can’t…”

Draco’s eyes flew open. They were glazed and shining, and his expression seemed pleased as he nodded and moved his hand away from the base of Harry’s cock.

Harry had never before lost control of himself this completely. He moved and writhed and shouted mindlessly, feeling only the tightness of Draco’s throat and the way his orgasm passed through him like the waves of a lightning storm. It was…fuck, there were no words.

He had to have lost a few seconds of time, because when he regained his vision, he was boneless in his seat and Draco had already redressed him. Harry managed to lift a weak hand.

“Hi,” Draco said, smirking up at him, face flushed. He was still on his knees, which shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was.

“Hi,” Harry mouthed, because his throat wouldn’t work. He cleared it and tried again. “Hi.”

“Good?”

“Better than anything,” Harry said with perfect honesty. Draco must have been able to read in his face just how true it was, because his smirk broadened into a genuine smile. “You haven’t…”

“Don’t be stupid, Potter,” Draco said, “you saw how much I liked…er, what you did.”

Harry tensed – as much as that was possible when his muscles were still like gelatin – and gave Draco a concerned once-over. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Draco said. “At least, not in a way I wasn’t begging for you to.”

“So you did really...I mean, obviously you liked it, yeah, but…”

Draco sighed and finally moved, squeezing himself in the seat next to Harry once again. “Yes, I did really,” he said, rather dryly. “I’d explain, but I’d rather you figure it out for yourself at some point during the next several thousand times I plan to do this to you.”

That sounded rather promising, and so Harry, who’d only just now started to fret over how much exactly this might mean to Draco, only relaxed back into his seat with a sigh, enjoying the warmth pressed against him, the head leaning on his shoulder, and the stray strand of blond hair clinging to the stubble on his cheek. For a while, they basked silently in the emotions of the moment. 

“How long?” Draco asked then.

Harry thought about pretending he didn’t understand the question but gave that idea up immediately, because the fact that he was a shit actor hadn’t changed in the last ten minutes. So instead he said, “I’m not actually sure. I realized I year and a half ago, on that day Ron and Sonia busted the ring of abusive Kneazle breeders, and I found you writing a report while lying on the floor in your cubicle with something like ten kittens crawling all over you.”

Draco smirked. “Sucker for baby animals, are you?”

“Clearly,” Harry said. “But I know it was longer than that, I just didn’t…_know_.”

“You’re nothing if not oblivious, I’ll give you that,” Draco said.

Harry snorted. “Thanks a bunch. How long’s it been for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, something like fourth year,” Draco said airily, “you know, when you were fighting dragons and showing off and all that.”

“What!” Harry spluttered. “But-”

“Well it’s not like I ever admitted it to myself,” Draco interrupted him and rolled his eyes. “I excelled at denial.”

“We’re both ridiculous,” Harry said weakly.

“You’re only realizing it  _now?”_

“Screw you. Oh,  _fuck.”_

Draco’s head popped up. “What’s wrong? Are the wards down?”

“No, no, they’re holding, thank fucking Merlin. But we’re wasting a bunch of time when we still need to figure out which one of these men is our-”

“Guy up front with the paisley scarf,” Draco said.

“Wait, what?”

“I cast legilimency on him when he got up to go to the loo earlier, before take-off.”

Harry took a deep breath. “And why, exactly, did you not tell me this immediately?”

Draco looked at him like he was stupid. “Because I needed an excuse to snog you, obviously.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Obviously.”

“Now, can we nap for a little while? It’s not like he can go anywhere.”

“Oh, fine,” said Harry, trying to look put out, but he discovered that was a difficult feat when he couldn’t stop smiling.


End file.
